ED’s Version of Events

Something something about

Ed was woken by a kick.

“Come on” a gravelly voice said, “time to get to work”

In the moments it took for him to scan his surroundings and remember where he was, there was a craving for caff, or something, anything, to speed up the boot process of his addled brain.

TKTK how long had he been here?

It was time for another shift of drudgery at the Bent Lekku Cantina. There would be another stream of would-be patrons to turn away, drinks to serve, and fights to break up. Some would be stopped before they got started with the application of the right words, others would require some bloodshed. There was some reassurance to be had from the knowledge that none of it would be his blood.

In the bar, the bands were making last-minute adjustments in preparation for the evening’s performance. Someone was arguing with Grigg about their payment for the night. Ed wondered why the always did this dance.

“You get paid after the show” he overheard. Taking that as his queue to saunter over to stand behind Grigg, not being too subtle about checking how much juice was left in the blaster at his hip. The flamboyantly dressed human shrugged, fired a “We’d better!” at Grigg, then slunk off back to his expectant bandmates, who begun making disappointed noises.

Grigg turned, spilling his drink when he realised Ed was behind him. “Kriff, Ed, you must walk like a cat!” he said.
”Must I?” Ed asked. “I don’t recall that clause in our contract.”

“Just forget I said anything.”

Ed’s eyes flickered for a few moments, then he replied “Done”.